A Tale of Two Hanks: Trouble in Paradise
by deathdefier243
Summary: It's not everyday when Hank gets to meet an exact duplicate of himself who claims to be from another realm. Is there truth to this strange man's claims, or is there something more sinister involved? (Crossover between Fullmetal Madness and Final Salvation) [Madness belongs to Krinkels] {Co-Author: Spirit9871}
1. Double Trouble

**Chapter 1:** **Double Trouble**

 _(One day after Fullmetal Madness Chapter 16)_

Hank prepares his son, Damien for school as his double sits on the couch, drinking whatever liquor he happens to find. Cathy shifts uncomfortably at the sight of her husband's twin. Scars trace across his face alongside the brand marks below his eyes. The gaping hole in his left cheek reveals rotten teeth and blood-red gums, complete with rope burns around the neck.

Hank takes his other self's bottle and inspects it. "Where did you get that?"

"From your liquor cabinet," the double says, letting out a belch.

"You understand that it's eight in the morning, right?"

"Yeah," the double reaches under the couch and pulls out a bottle of Devil's Toe. "I wonder how your kid's handling that you have a twin?"

"As far as I can tell, he thinks you're lying and just as suspicious as I am." Hank watches as Cathy takes Damien outside and closes the door behind her. "I just can't believe that you still wear that outfit."

"I find the overcoat and John Lennon glasses more practical than those pajamas you insist on wearing. Ninja garb's pretty pointless when it gets caught on your heels after all."

Hank takes the beverage away from the mercenary. "Starting to doubt you're my twin now."

Henry shrugs, pulling out his flask and takes a quick sip. "What was your name before you joined the Anti-AAHW?"

"Hank Shawnson."

"Shawnson? I've heard people even be named Trevon, but 'Shawnson' takes the cake. What kind of surname is that?"

"An important one. Yours?"

"Henry Jenning Wimbleski, at your service." Henry puts his hand out to shake. Hank only lets it sit there for a few moments. "I'm keeping this up here until you shake it."

Hank turns away and enters the kitchen to pour out the contents of the beverages Henry took. "And 'Shawnson' is supposed to sound strange?"

Henry gets off the couch and limps over to the kitchen. "Fuck you, Hank."

Before the two bicker any longer, there is a knock on the door. Hank turns to where he thinks Henry would be, only to realize he is nowhere in sight. He instead decides to greet the guest.

Sanford.

"Hi."

"Hi."

After their heartfelt reunion he enters the household.

"HYAAAAAAA!"

Henry drops from the ceiling and onto him. He has Sanford in a full nelson and keeps wrestling with him until he throws him out of one of the windows.

"What the living fuck are you doing?!" Hank screams as Sanford tries to get back inside while receiving help from Henry.

"Can't believe you guys've been out of action this long." Henry helps get some glass off Sanford only to be pushed aside.

"Hank. Why the fuck was I just flung out of your window by…" He looks at the two Hanks before him. "... Youuuuu?"

 _Interesting, this Sanford's not an Aussie._

"That's because I'm Hank's long-lost brother, Henry. He never said anything about me since mom thought I was the better child."

Sanford stares at Henry, then back to Hank. Hank presses his thumb and index finger against the bridge of his nose.

"He's from another dimension." He then glares into his twin's eyes and points to the glass fragments. "You're going to clean that mess up."

"Alright, alright. I will."

"Wha- wait NO, what the fuck?! That actually makes _less_ sense than the brother excuse! And isn't your mom fucking dea-"

"Yes, Sanford. Like my mother, the Improbability Drive was unpredictable. And very dead. Thank you for reminding me of both."

Henry grabs a bottle of vodka and offers it to Sanford. "Maybe this'll help you… _drink down_ these troubles?"

"Uh, no thanks… Henry, right? It's a bit early for that."

"Did you see that pun I made?"

"Yeah. I did."

"Are you sure? I'm not sure you did. It was the one with the _'swallow'_ in it."

"Well, I'm honestly fucking ecstatic to see that our friend here has your charm with Deimos's sense of humor. Makes me feel a lot better about the news I have to drop on ya."

"What news?" Hank asked.

"There's been a string of murders going on in Nevada."

Henry nods. "So basically, the usual?"

"Victims all apparently have one thing in common: former soldier of the AAHW."

"Great!"

"Henry. Could you kindly shut the fuck up for a minute?"

"Aww, I love how you added that 'kindly' in there too! You're such a gentleman."

Hank hands a broom to Henry. "Glass. You clean. Now."

"I'm sorry, but I don't speak in caveman talk-"

"Now."

"Fine. I'll clean up my own glass. Only it'll have **BLACKJACK! AND HOOKERS!** "

As Henry heads back to the living room, Hank turns back to Sanford. "You think this had something to do with Dan?"

"Doubtful. He's been in containment since Underground Circus."

Henry raises his head up. "Who's Dan?"

"A very, _very_ angry brother-in-law."

"Huh, gotta meet this guy," Henry drops the broom, and jumps out of a different window.

The duo freezes up as they hear glass shattering again. Sanford turns his head slowly to Hank with narrowed eyes.

"... Did he just jump out of the fucking _window_?"

"Don't lose him!" Hank yells as they dash out of the house.

* * *

Sanford is bent over, panting, "Damn, he's fast."

"It's been five minutes and you're out of breath already? Hm… no wonder why we lost him."

Sanford stands up, clearly unamused. "... You know what? Fuck it. I hope he gets hit by a car. You and your sense of humor is enough to give me a stroke."

"Not unless you get a heart attack first from cardio and doughnuts, Chief." Hank goes to his car. "At this point, we're not going to get him by foot. Come on."

* * *

The sound of Henry's footsteps make their mark across the sidewalk. Running to whatever destination he set his mind to, only to find he is running to nowhere. Upon realizing this, he stops… dead in his tracks. The light from the sun reflects from the bottle he is holding. The rays shoot into his eyes, forcing him to look at the beverage he is holding.

 _May as well._

He puts the tip of the bottle to his lips and tilts his head backwards. The burning sensation almost overwhelms him as he guzzles the contents. His throat reels in agony as the substance invades his body. Ignoring the pain, he keeps drinking until the bottle runs empty.

Henry puts the bottle down, head dropping every other second. His stomach clenches as though he has just been punched in the gut. A hiccup follows that, only making the punch feeling come over to his chest.

Bile starts creeping up his chest. The same burning sensation is felt once again as Henry falls to his knees. He tears off his bandana and medical mask. The grass field in front of him is the only thing he keeps his attention to. The sick feeling in his chest rises to his throat. A second later, one single second, he vomits on the floor. The force causes him to cough until he vomits again.

 _Forgot I don't have Sanford's liver._

Using his sleeve, he wipes his mouth of any refuse, feeling the acidic waste leave his flesh. He then decides to walk around the neighborhood and notices a passersby wave hello, smiling.

 _Why are they happy?_

He then continues down the road and sees multiple flashes of light, almost blinding him.

"Hank, how's your family?"

"What's your next mission?"

"What's your take on the latest death from the AAHW killer?"

"What happened last month between you and Cathy?"

The constant flashes of light blind Henry as he brings his right hand to shield his eyes. The reporters continue bombarding their questions as their voices become louder and louder.

Henry can only step back as the clicking and flashing intensify, leaving him to grab one of the cameras. He feels the plastic and rubber in his palm as he tightens his grip. The casing gives way and his fingers puncture the hardware.

Wires and other hardware fall out of the camera, hushing the inquisitors. The silence only lasts for a few seconds; the questions and the flashes of light make a rapid-fire return. He walks to the closest reporter and seizes her by the throat. She feels her feet hover above the ground and sees the resentment in the eyes of her attacker.

"GO AWAY!"

The camera crew panic, scrambling all over the place and away from Henry like a nest of roaches being uncovered. He looks back to the reporter still in his grip, seeing her face become a mask of confusion and fear.

Henry loosens his grip and lets her go. He watches her retreat as the road he is facing begins to melt and swivel. His feet become uneasy and stumble upon each other.

 _Thirsty. I need water._

Awkward footsteps imprint the concrete as Henry stumbles as fast as he can. His throat clutches his full attention. Heat from the sun feels evermore unbearable as he takes his next step and looks at what is in front of him.

Colors surround his vision as he stares at a park. Green, yellow, red, blue, _everything_. Families playing with each other and children running around stay at the center of his attention. He continues straggling down the field until he spots an outdoor water fountain.

 _Water._

Heart racing, he sprints to the fountain and drinks to his heart's content. Water drips from his mouth as he finishes. Feeling streams come down his chin, he uses his clean sleeve to wipe his lips. Taking his surroundings in once more, Henry spots a park bench only a few yards away. A green bench, recently painted and looking like a good spot to rest.

 _This has been a crazy week to say the least._

Walking to the seat, Henry sees a ball rush to him. It hits the ground as Henry ducks the spherical attacker.

 _I hate this._

Collapsing on the bench, he takes a deep breath, ignoring the shouts and screams of kids playing games. He looks to the sky, hunched over.

"You gonna stop playing deaf now, God?"

Henry slouches on the back rest and lets his feet slide on the pavement in front of him. The rough surface scrapes the soles of his boots, letting the white noise invade his ears.

 _Can't believe I miss my ol' hellhole._

Small footsteps sound off, invading his hearing as he sits upright on his seat.

"Um, Mister Hank… sir?"

"Huh?"

"I just want to say thank you for saving my mom and dad. You're my hero."

The tiny voice causes him to look down, meeting a pair of bright green eyes attached onto an innocent figure, packaged with admiration and respect. All of this leaving him with the irresistible desire to throttle the life out of her.

Henry gets up from the bench. "Maybe you should go back to them," he tells her as he begins to walk away.

The sound of his feet brushing against the luscious grass invade his mind until she grabs him by the wrist.

"Mom and dad would love to meet you."

Henry decides to follow her, all the while something odd comes to him.

 _This park looks uncannily familiar._

Staring upon the open meadow around him, something seems off.

 _I remember this place, charred, decrepit. How could it have turned into this?_

The girl finally finds her parents.

"Mom! Dad! I found him."

"Who'd you find dear?" The girl's father asks as turns to be face to face with Henry. "Well, Mister Wimbleton, it's an honor to meet you."

The father presents his hand to shake to which Henry obliges.

"Honey, we've got a guest you'd like to meet."

"Who could it be this time Charles?" Another voice asks as she appears out of some bushes and sees the mercenary.

"Oh my," she says as both she and Henry are taken aback.

 _Why do I recognize her face?_

"I'll get the camera," she tells everyone as she runs off to their car.

"So, what brings you to the park?" The father asks as he plays with his daughter.

"Just needed some fresh air," Henry tells him as the little girl jumps on him and embraces him.

The father takes her off of him. "Sorry about Nadine, she's a big fan of yours."

Soon enough, the mother comes back, camera in hand. She gets the father and daughter to be right beside Henry and takes a picture. She then switches with her daughter.

"I think we've got enough," The father expresses to his wife and child. "I think Hank has some other things to take care of."

"Bye Hank!" the little girl waves at him as he walks away.

* * *

 _What the fuck was that?_

Henry continues walking across the green pastures that besiege him. Blades of grass reflect upon the wind as a breeze comes over him. Screaming from the children become louder.

Something bulging from the ground catches Henry's focus. Moving quietly, he picks it up, revealing it to be a shiny pebble. Shaking his head, he drops it and continues moving until he sees a monolith.

Three men standing upon the center of the area, each having their own heroic pose. One wearing an overcoat and a visor wielding two machine guns, all the while smoking a cigarette. Another wearing a bandana and John Lennon Sunglasses, swinging his hook. The last wears ninja wraps and red goggles, holding a dragon sword in front of him.

As the clouds move, the sun's rays reflect from the stand and force Henry to look at what is inscribed on it.

 **In memory of Nevada's trio of saviors. From killers to heroes.**

 _Of all things I've seen in my life._

Henry looks at the statue again, looking at the finely chiseled granite that composes the figures looking down at him. Deigning him.

 _If the White Lion Society came to be here, then I don't know how Hank and the others could have been treated as heroes in general._

The grass comes to his view once again. The green barley that move seamlessly along whatever pushes it.

 _That's in the past now._

Looking at the statue one last time, Henry moves down the meadow. A branch snaps and a shriek is heard not too far from him. Instinctively running to the origin of the sound, he sees a child on the ground with a bent and contorted forearm. As the adults rush to the boy, Henry runs past them and finds the road to be right in front of him.

 _Thank Christ they're focusing their sights on that kid._

A siren sounds off near him. It becomes louder as a police car drives up to him.

Sanford gets out of the car, "Where do you think you're going?"

"To meet this Dan."

"Sorry to say this, but I'm taking you back to Hank's house. You're a bit too dangerous to be left alone."

"What makes you say that?"

"Considering you were willing to jump out of a different window just to get here can give certain suspicions."

"Alright, fine."

Clean metal brushes against Henry's hand as he opens the car door and enters the back of the vehicle. Sanford enters the driver seat and starts the car. With the field passing through his view, Henry tries opening the door, failing at every attempt. Defeated, Henry slumps on his seat, resting his head on the window.

"You forget you're in a police car."

"Right."

Through the rear-view mirror Sanford sees Henry lift his feet and kick the opposite window. Glass shards fill the back of the car as he quickly clambers through the broken glass.

"Henry, no!"

Henry falls out, rolling along the road. He jumps back onto his feet, gunning it to any direction away from Sanford.

Sanford turns on the siren. "That madman'll get himself killed."

Running, Henry stumbles through other pedestrians and other obstacles while the police car follows him, sirens still blazing. Thinking quickly, he runs in the opposite direction and bumps into other people along the way. With so many people to collide with, he eventually falls over and rolls down a hill.

Feeling the grass scrape against his clothes and flesh, Henry gets up and dashes aimlessly down the field in front of him. He catches sight of another road up ahead and sprints to it as though he is outrunning an explosion. Many vehicles pass by, leaving a distinct sound of speed and squeaking from their brakes. In spite of the sight, he continues running anyway, not checking for cars being too close, nor the stoplights that run a bright green color.

As the mercenary runs down the street, an automobile collides with him, forcing him to roll up the car hood and windshield. He slides on the roof of the car, onto the trunk, and on the floor.

 _God, I can't move my arms. Need to keep moving._

Twisting and writhing back up, he notices that his left leg is also limp, almost as lifeless as he is. People walking by see him stagger to the sidewalk as the car that hit him drives off. He collapses shortly after and lies close to a parking meter.

* * *

 ** _Fifteen Minutes Later_**

Hank and Deimos drive to the general park that Henry was seen in. They proceed down the road until they spot somebody wearing garb that resembles Hank's back in war.

"Get him in the car," Hank orders his friend as they grab the fallen soldier from the ground.

"How's he still alive?" Deimos asks as he lifts Henry's arms.

"My guess is that he has my problem as well." Hank picks up his phone. "We got him, Sanford."

"You really think you're still immortal?" The visor wearing former mercenary questions as both he and Hank get Henry into the car and drive off.

"Higher Powers have brought me back every time I've died. I highly doubt that's going to change anytime soon."

"You never know Hank. Even gods fall before men."

The two drive on for a few more minutes. Along the ride, they hear sickening pops and breaking bones. Out comes Henry from the back of the vehicle.

"So, when are we meeting and interrogating Dan?"

Deimos jumps in his seat. "Jebus! He's as bad as you used to be Hank!"

"I take it you're Deimos," Henry reaches hand out to shake. "Weird name, though."

Deimos shakes it, frowning. "And you are?"

"Henry Jenning Wimbleski."

Deimos scoffs. "What kind of name-?"

Hank puts a hand over Deimos's mouth. "Don't start with him, Deimos."


	2. Interdimensional Secrets

_**Interdimensional Secrets**_

Dark walls surround Henry as he sits at his chair with his hands cuffed on the table in front of him. Sounds of muffled conversation are the only things he can hear from inside the room. He leans his head behind him, causing it to hang over the back of his neck.

 _I can't believe they're using childish mind games on me. How could they have interrogated anybody from Dead Nevada with these tactics?_

Shifting forward, Henry rests his head on his arms and starts to doze off. Hank and Deimos look through the one-way mirror to see Henry asleep in the interrogation room. Sanford enters the room with half a sandwich in his mouth and a cup of coffee in his free hand.

Hank turns to Sanford. "I told you we didn't need to go through the usual routine."

Sanford takes the sandwich out of his mouth as he opens the door to the room Henry is in. "Let's just say this was the first test to see if he was anything like you."

"I see," Hank says as he and Deimos enter the room.

The door closes, getting Henry to sit up on his seat as the trio sits at the opposite side of the table. Sanford's watch is the only sound that fills Henry's ears with ticking and tocking. Other than that, Henry breaks the silence as he sees the three men just staring at him.

"Are you going to ask me questions or just stare at me?"

Hank leans closer to him. "Who are you really?"

"You want the unabridged version or the cliff's notes?"

Sanford interrupts. "We want to know why you look so similar to Hank."

Henry looks to the ceiling. "Hm, gee. Maybe because I am Hank?"

Hank rolls his eyes. "When you were found in my house, you were badly wounded. What happened?"

Henry looks down in shame. "Dealt with some monsters. What about you?"

Deimos sits closer to the table. "What can you tell us about your past?"

Henry presses back on his seat, once again staring at the ceiling. "I was born an orphan just like Hank. Not that it really matters."

Hank rests his right arm on the table as he leans even closer to Henry. "I'm guessing you had some trouble with the other kids and faculty."

Henry gives a slight smirk. "Yeah, like that Julia Bitch, the horsefucker that she is."

"What?"

Henry sits up straight, looking Hank in the eye with his smirk still on. "You know, that caretaker that couldn't keep herself from burning up."

Sanford and Deimos trade confused looks while Hank grabs Henry by the collar and drags him across the table.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Henry's slight smirk broadens to an ear to ear grin. "Shawnson, now I see. You had to kiss her ass enough to gladly take her last name?"

"You really don't want to fuck with me right now."

"But I'm not! That's what your wife is for right?" Henry winks. "Maybe throw your kid in there too for those kinky nights?"

Hank turns to Sanford. "Petition for pulling out three of his teeth?"

Sanford crosses his arms. "Overruled."

"On what grounds?"

"The fucking Geneva Convention, Hank!"

Henry turns his head to show the bullet hole in his cheek to Hank. "How many teeth do you think you can pull out? Some are _inside_ my gums. Think you can pull those out too?"

Hank lets go of Henry and tosses him back to his seat.

"So it's a fight you want." Henry tells the former mercenary as he effortlessly breaks the handcuffs that restrict him to the table.

Deimos quickly gets up and takes a step back as Sanford reaches for his gun and Hank stays put. Henry sees what the trio is about to do and punches the one way mirror to the room, shattering it. As the fragments fall, he picks up a large shard and has a grip tight enough to cause blood to drip from his fingers.

"You really want to start this?" Hank asks as he steps closer to Henry.

"Let's see you get through this unharmed."

"BOTH OF YOU CALM DOWN!" Sanford yells as he draws his pistol, takes the safety off and points it at Henry.

Both Hanks turn to him, Henry still smiling. "You better be careful, you just might hit the wrong Hank."

Hank walks to the door. "I've got work to do. He's your problem."

As the door slams shut, Henry gets back in his seat.

Sanford puts his gun back in its holster. "Are you always like this?"

"Only with jackasses like him."

Deimos sits back down, popping his knuckles. "How'd you get that hole in your cheek?"

"Fell on a nail."

"Really?"

"Of course it would be, how else could I get such a huge hole in my face?"

"Moving on," Sanford says as he takes his seat once again.

"Am I still a handsome lad where you're from?" Deimos asks.

Henry sits in silence for a few seconds. "I guess, considering you are a bit of a womanizer."

Henry notices Deimos raising an eyebrow.

"I'm guessing you're no longer like that."

"I was nev- I MEAN, uh… I was _always_ a womanizer, of course! Heh." Deimos rubs at his hands, looking a little more fidgety than before. "But uh, just out of curiosity, _how_ did I become a womanizer? Y-you know! For comparison's sake! Haha…"

Sanford lets out a subtle sigh as he closes his eyes in a futile effort not to cringe. Henry leans back on his chair.

"You just did. I'm not a psychiatrist, so I can't help you with that." Henry looks to Deimos' left hand, noticing the ring. "You're married?"

Deimos looks to the piece of jewelry. "Yeah. Wanted to give the other guys a fair chance, you know?"

"Right. My _Deemos_ would have a field day with you."

"It's pronounced 'Deimos'."

"Where I'm from, it's 'Deemos'. Ah whatever, potato-potahto, tomato-"

Sanford points at Henry. "You've already made me waste more than enough time from my lunch break. Get to the point."

"Fine, _Stanford_." He turns back to 'Deimos'. "Well, anyways, congratulations on the bastard child."

Deimos stands up and rests his hands on the table, glaring at Henry. "What are you implying?"

"I'm just saying, if you really aren't the one who's unfaithful… then you might need to ask a few specific questions to your 'loving' wife."

Deimos is ready to pounce. "You little-!"

"Enough!" Sanford yells as he hits the table. "I already had to keep Hank from killing you, so I don't need Deimos to be the other rabid dog going for your neck!"

Henry gives a mockingly bashful look. "Aww. But you're gonna miss the part where I tell you about that time Stanford dealt with that mom selling off her daughter. Judging by the shitty shingles on the house by the bar, it was probably for drugs. Moving on-"

"Drug house?" Sanford asks.

"I don't know, I wasn't the person who found out about this." Henry says.

Sanford gives a sigh of discontent. "Where was this house exactly?"

Henry looks to Sanford with a puzzled look. "You didn't clear that place out yet?"

"Maybe we did. I just want to know if this may have been one of the houses we didn't investigate."

Henry looks down at the table and blinks twice. "You didn't bother to check on some other houses?"

"We were investigating a drug ring and led us to someplace. I want to know if this is the same place."

Henry straightens his back. "I'm guessing this isn't the same place since the place I'm talking about is in a well off area."

Sanford takes out a pen and paper. "So you're saying…"

"I'm saying that this mother was morally bankrupt and wanted to either sell or prostitute her daughter."

Sanford slides the paper and pen across the table. "Where is this place?"

Henry writes on the blank sheet of paper and slides it back to Sanford.

Sanford reads the address. "This street runs through a shady part of the city."

"Not where I'm from."

"Is that so?"

"You'd be surprised at how demented people in general can be." Henry says as he leans on the table. "There was a case where a mother dismembered her son for not doing too well in school. And that was a _middle-class_ household."

Sanford rubs the bridge of his nose. "I'm sure that may have happened where you're from. I also believe you know more than you're letting on about this." He presses a button on the table. Two large officers come into the room immediately after. "But it seems all you want to do is waste my time."

Henry gets his hands cuffed once again as the two men escort him out of the room. Once the door closes, Sanford puts the paper with the address in his pocket. He stays seated, staring through the table.

Deimos shakes him slightly by the shoulder. "You alright, San?"

Sanford looks at Deimos. "I'm fine. Just going over what Henry was talking about."

"You're seriously going to check the house?"

"Maybe. It was one of the places we were going to investigate after all."

"You go ahead and waste even more time with this," Deimos tells his friend as he exits the room.

 **Some time later...**

The police officer watching over a cell looks through the door's bars and sees Henry lying down on the floor. He turns back around to face the door that leads to the rest of the headquarters until he sees Sanford enter the room he's in.

"I want a word with him."

The officer departs from his post. "Alright, sir."

Sanford takes out one of his keys and inserts it into the keyhole. As he turns the key, the locking mechanism makes a loud click and the door slides open. He gets inside the cell and stands beside the door frame. His shadow runs over Henry.

"What else do you know about the mother wanting to sell her daughter."

Henry gets up, yawning. "You know, it's kind of hard to tell what you're saying without any kind of slurred speech or-"

"I was an alcoholic where you're from?"

"More like a dead drunk… who was also Australian."

"I see, but what else do you know about that mother?"

Henry looks down for half a minute, then back at Sanford. "I'd ask Stanford this. He was the one who dealt with it… right. All I really remember was the address."

Sanford takes the piece of paper out. "Is that all?"

"Stanford said she might be a drug user. Said she had a cocaine ring around her lips."

"Thanks, I guess. You have any idea how you came to be here?"

"My only guess is that I made a dimensional or timeline jump from the desert."

Sanford opens the cell door once again. "I see. If what you're saying is true…"

"You can believe me?"

"Maybe." Sanford tells the other Hank as he gets out of the cell.

Deimos waits patiently at Sanford's desk until the door opens and he sees his friend walk into the room. "Any more clues, _Dick Tracy_?"

"Turns out the ' _Stanford_ ' from wherever he's from was the only one who dealt with this woman."

"And you still believe him?"

Sanford sits at his desk. "I still think we should check out that house. It _was_ one of our targets a

while ago."

Deimos leans on his chair, making his head be close to the wall behind him. "How're you going to do that?"

Sanford opens a drawer in his desk. "You still have some spare time from your holiday right?"

"I'm not wasting it on this wild goose chase of yours."

Sanford pulls out a wad of bills. "Will 50 bucks convince you otherwise?"

"Bribery _and_ going into a house without a search warrant. Isn't that, like, _double_ illegal?"

"For the record," Sanford starts as he pulls out a piece of paper. "I do have a warrant. And not for the record," he tosses the wad of one-dollar bills on the desk. "Those fifty bucks don't exist."

"This still isn't convincing me to join you."

"What else are you going to do tonight besides waste time on your computer?" Sanford asks as he gets to the door.

Deimos gets his coat on. "Alright, fine."

While the two were leaving, a shadowy figure passes by the window, catching Sanford's attention. He points to the window. "Did you see that?"

Deimos looks out that same window. "No. Should we check on it?"

"Probably."

The two get out of the room and exit the building. They walk over to the parking lot where Sanford's window is and check the general area. Deimos looks under the cars. "You sure you saw something?"

"I think I did," Sanford says as he checks the corner of the building. "It was very blurry. Could've just been a bird for all we know."

"We're just wasting time."

"Just like the old days."

Deimos sighs as he and Sanford get into a police car and drive off. The car ride starts off quiet due to Sanford silencing the radio.

"So, it's just us?" Deimos asks as he rests his head on the window.

"Don't want to waste anyone else's time if this really is a goose chase."

"But you believe Henry enough to go through with this?"

"Deimos, there's something about him. He survived that car crash that should have killed him-"

"He could just be a clone."

Sanford shifts a gear as he drives faster. "Or possibly from another dimension or timeline."

Deimos shakes his head. "That's what he said about being here?"

"Only explanation he could find."

"So you're _actually_ gonna believe this fuckin' psycho's story about alternate timelines and shit?"

Sanford slows down the car to a halt as they approach a red light. "No. I don't believe a bit of it."

"Then why-"

"Because, Deimos. If he's right about the house, there are only two groups of people who would have known about that." The light turns green and the two ride down the road. "The first being the cops. And the second… the people _involved_ in selling the kids."

They reach a stop sign and start hearing a banging noise from the rear of the car.

"What the hell?" Sanford mutters as both he and Deimos look back. The audible bashing grows louder.

Deimos turns to his partner. "Your call, chief."

Sanford takes out his gun. "Let's see what's in there."

The two get out of the car and walk over to the trunk. Sanford readies his pistol and takes the safety off as Deimos gets his hand close to the trunk door and pops it open. Inside it is none other than Henry.

"Wha-? Whe-? HOW?" Sanford asks as he puts his pistol away.

Henry shrugs. "I escaped. Simple as that."

" _How_ did you escape?"

"Using my training?"

Sanford rolls his eyes. "I figured. But how'd you escape that quickly? That was what, three or four minutes?"

Henry gets out of the trunk. "Well, it's to be expected if you're from the Anti-AAHW."

"Fine," Sanford says as he walks over to the driver's seat. "May as well take you with us then."

"That's the spirit." Henry says in a chipper tone as he sits in the back of the police car.

Deimos hesitantly gets in the passenger seat. "You sure we can trust him?"

Sanford gets his seatbelt on. "If he's too much trouble, we can just make him collateral."

"You know assholes, I'm right behind you." Henry tells them as he grips the barrier between him and the front of the car.

"Oh I know," Sanford responds as he starts the car and begins driving. "It just seems like you wouldn't have cared regardless."

Henry sighs and slumps on his seat.

"You might want to put a seatbelt on," Sanford says.

"I'll be fine."

As soon as Henry responds, Sanford abruptly stops the car, forcing the scarred Hank to collide with the barrier.

"Ow." Henry gets back on his seat. "Nice driving."

"You said you'd be fine. After all, I'll bet the guard that was watching over you is in perfect shape. _RIGHT?_ "

Henry puts his seatbelt on. "He'll live."

"What did you do to him?"

"Just broke his collarbone and left wrist. That's all."

"Then I'll have you know," Sanford turns to face him. "That cell's going to be your new home for the next couple of months just for that."

Henry raises his hands defeatedly. "Alright, fine."

"Good." Sanford turns back to the road and starts driving again.

"Haven't seen you like this since _that_ argument you had with your wife," Deimos tells his friend as he pulls out a cigarette.

"No matter how many times you say it, you never quit smoking."

"I need something to help out with the stress."

"Stress of what exactly?" Henry asks as he leans closer to the barrier once again.

"Let's see…" Deimos pauses as he holds out his hand and is ready to count on his fingers. "I have a job as a CEO of a software company that is likely to be absorbed soon. A wife that can drive me crazier than Tricky the Clown. A son that can't follow simple instructions and probably has a bad case of ADD." He turns back to the other passenger. "Do I need to go on?"

"All I'm hearing is complacent whining."

"Yeah, because we happened to have fixed our shit instead of letting it sit and get worse."

Henry yawns as he slumps on his seat. Deimos turns back to the road.

"That's what I thought."

Fifteen minutes of driving later, Sanford slows down the car as the three of them see the house that the address pointed to. He gets his pistol ready.

"Henry. If you want to help out with this and lower your jail sentence for assault, you will have to follow my instructions."

Henry gets his seatbelt off and opens his door. "What do you need?"

"Right now," Sanford starts as he opens his door. "I need you to stay put."

"Can't I at least provide a distraction?"

"If you don't go crazy and kill whoever's in there. Then fine."

"You're seriously going to let him do this?" Deimos asks as he exits the car.

"Why else would I have gotten my gun?"

The three huddle up in front of the car. Deimos tosses his cigarette. "What's our plan of action?"

Sanford looks at the house and yard surrounding it. "Deimos and I can go around to the back while Henry can come in from the front."

"Alright," Henry starts walking to the house. "Let's get going."

"Henry, wait," Sanford calls as he grabs Henry by the sleeve.

"What? We've already got a plan."

"I don't know how things are done back home, but we need a bit more coordination than just entry."

Henry yanks his sleeve away. "Fine then, Erich Von Manstein. What else do we need?"

"I need you to _not_ commit any kind of serious assault when we get into position. You got that?"

"Yeah," Henry says as he looks at one of the cracked windows. "I guess."

Sanford turns to Deimos. "We will have to make a silent entry through one of the back windows. The door is likely to be locked and-"

Dried grass being stepped on fills Deimos' ears. "Henry!" He calls as Henry steps on the dilapidated porch and stands beside the door. The scarred man points to the cracked window and motions them to get into the backyard. Deimos and Sanford silently sprint to the back as Henry knocks on the door.

After a minute or two, the door opens and a woman in a pink bathrobe comes into his view. She looks to be in her late – forties, hair is starting to frizzle, wrinkles overtaking the top of her cheeks and below her eyes. Her most notable feature however, was a strange ring around her lips.

She looks to the man towering over her, eyes widening over who exactly she is face-to-face with. Her hand raises to hover over her cheek and curls her fingers to poke in circular fashion.

Henry shrugs. "It's what happens when you save the world twice."

"R-right."

"May I come in?"

The middle-aged woman closes the door slightly. "What for?"

Henry points to the ceiling. "I noticed that there were a few things you might need help with. I just wanted to see if there may be some other things that may be _missing._ "

Her eyes squint while she tilts her head to the side, trying to figure out what he meant by that statement.

"Is there anything _THE_ Hank J. Wimbleton can do to help you?"

She tries to close the door a little bit more. "I would like it if you were to leave."

Henry grabs the closing door and holds it open. "Where's your daughter?"

She freezes for a few seconds before slamming the door thanks to Henry letting go. A vase shattering is all that Henry hears before sounds of struggling followed by grunts and wood splintering.

"Damnit Sanford," Deimos calls. "She's got a club."

"That's not really a problem Deimos." A minute passes. "Put the table leg down and put your hands on your head."

Henry opens the door and enters the house to see derelict portraits of unfamiliar people. One framed picture lies face down. He picks it up to see the same woman in a picture with a girl that is the spitting image of her. Popping open the frame, Henry takes the picture and enters the room with Sanford and Deimos.

As he enters, he sees Sanford handcuffing her. "Already found the drugs?"

Sanford looks up at Henry. "Yeah."

Deimos tosses a bad full of white powder at Henry. "Anything else we should look for?"

Henry looks at the woman. "Coming to think of it…" He turns to Deimos. "Stanford did mention a basement."

"You think there's more shit there?" Sanford asks as he gets off of the middle aged mother.

"More than likely. I remember one of her options with her daughter was to have her tied up and be used."

All three stare at the handcuffed woman before she spills her guts. "Basement door's next to the kitchen."

Sobbing sounds off as Sanford grabs her by the shoulder and lifts her up to her feet. "Lead the way."

The four walk to the kitchen until the door comes into view. Henry grips the brass knob tight enough to leave indentions. Only a set of ominous stairs appear once the door creaks open.

Not a word is spoken by anybody as they get into the basement and Sanford turns on the light switch. There they see a smooth platform with a pole and chair. Deimos spots a table across the room.

"Deimos wait," Henry says as he turns on a second set of lights that reveal a camera and miscellaneous sex toys.

Deimos rushes to the table and opens a drawer. "Uh, guys?"

Sanford gets to the table and looks in the drawer to see a sundry of pictures that involve a little girl very similar to the mother they have in the basement currently. Each one has her in several sexual acts with many different men and women. Sanford gripped the side of the photo, bending it as his blood boiled.

Very familiar men.

Deimos clutches Sanford's shoulder and shakes it. "San, aren't you going to do something?"

Sanford shakes his head. "I guess that guard's going to get more of a beating than what Henry gave him."

Henry turns to the mother. "When did you sell her?"

She gives no answer as she stares away from the three investigators. He grabs her by the throat and lifts her a foot off the floor.

"You're only tying your own noose."

She stares into the masked man's red eyes. Only seeing the gaze of anger and death as she tries to pull his hand off of her throat.

"Henry," Sanford calls. "Stand down."

"As you wish," Henry tells Sanford as he lets go of his grip and has the woman fall back on the ground. Gasping for air, she backs away from the tall masked man.

"I sold her a few years ago."

"Do you still know who it was?" Deimos asks as Sanford handcuffs both her and Henry.

"He never told me his name," She says as she gets dragged across the filthy basement floor.

"He's in one of the pictures."

Deimos takes a picture from the bottom of the pile and sees the girl tied to be in the splits. The camera angle reveals she is not wearing any underwear and is oozing from down under. "Can't believe the son of a bitch was right."

Henry turns to Sanford. "Believe me now?"

Sanford shoves him forward. "All this proves is that you could have been involved."

Henry looks down, cheerfully smiling. "Perhaps, perhaps. But I can show you other crimes that could be happening right now."

"Like what?"

"Like something in a particular warehouse."

* * *

Hank sits at his porch with a bottle of Mexicola in his hand. He stares at the stars that surround him as the moonlit night eclipses his house. The peaceful moment was interrupted by bright headlights from a familiar car that gets into his driveway. After half a minute, the door opens and a blood-stained Sanford walks out. The most noticeable red splotch rests in his hair, dripping slowly.

Hank gets up from his porch and walks to the car. The sound of grass being crushed as he takes one step after another fills his ears. "What happened?"

"I don't know who this Henry person is." Sanford pauses as he pulls out his phone, opening his photo gallery. "But he was able to lead us to crime scenes and even interrupt a snuff film."

Hank takes the phone. "You're telling me-"

"I'm telling you there may be some weight to what Henry knows and says. This was his snuff film prediction I was telling you about earlier. At a warehouse."

Hank looks at the first picture: an image of a nude woman lying face down on a guillotine and missing her head. Puncture wounds scatter the back of her neck, as her hands lay on her nether regions.

"You took this?"

"Henry did."

"Of course he did." He turns the phone off and grimaces. "So he was able to get every 'prediction' right?"

"Most of them."

"What did he get wrong?"

Sanford leans against his car. "He said there was a former operative of Antithesis with the name of 'Lance' that went rogue and brutally raped and murdered people all over Nevada."

"I figure this Lance was in Henry's head."

"I don't know Hank," Sanford takes his phone back. "This Lance could either be lying low, or already be dead."

"Where is Henry now?"

"Back in his cell."

"And it's going to hold him?"

"I hope it will until tomorrow. Have more than one guard taking shifts watching him this time around. Going to see if there's anything else he might know."

"I just wish my wife would stop thinking that he's really me."

Sanford opens his car door. "I'm not quite sure that would be entirely true."

"Then what exactly are you sure of?"

Sanford enters the car and starts it. "That it may be possible that Henry's really from some other dimension or timeline."

"Well, there's only one group of people who can."

Sanford closes the door, hand on the gear shift as he looks at Hank. "And who would that be?"

"Our ex-bosses."


	3. No One Knows Era Vulgaris

**A Tale of Two Hanks Chapter 3: No One Knows Era Vulgaris**

Sizzling bacon wakes up Hank. The great aroma filling his nostrils as he sits up in his bed, feeling a headache. As he gets up, he has a slight case of vertigo. Leaning on the doorframe, he shakes his head before heading to the kitchen. Cathy wears a bathrobe over her nightgown as she flips eggs on the pan on the left side of the stove. On the right, he sees the beautiful bacon cook and darken.

He hugs her from behind. "Good morning, sweet thing."

She puts her hand over Hank's left. "Good morning."

"I see you're cooking the universal favorite."

"Well," she turns her head to kiss him. "I made sure you and little Damien have enough for the morning."

Hank tightens the hug and lets go. "You're the best, Cathy."

Cathy smirks as she gets the bacon pan off the stove. She puts the contents on a plate covered in paper towels. "I know I am."

The television blares off with a timely introduction soundtrack.

"Yeah, yeah. Ok. Sales pitch. Here we go."

The strange voice leads Hank to the TV room where Damien sits on the floor in front of the TV screen. THe boy stares at a talking, broken, yellow lightbulb. Its arms props itself up while smoking a cigarette.

"Rock and roll band Queens of the Stone Age got this album. Called Era Vulgaris. Whatever that means." The talking lightbulb looks off screen for a half a second. "Right? Alright, we're gonna listen to a track called, Sick, Sick, Sick."

A green lightbulb wearing a pirate hat crawls on screen with its peg arm.

"What?" The yellow bulb asks the green bulb, who is panting heavily. "Did I ask to see your face? Huh? BEAT IT."

The green bulb crawls away, giving off retarded laughter.

"Yeah, you know what you did. Moonlights go."

The one-colored background that makes up the show, changes to a different hue to the rhythm of the song playing. Electric guitars then drums blast through the speakers, while the vocals consist of heavy breathing in the same pattern as the tempo.

Hank steps closer to the television. "Damien, what are you watching?"

The little fry turns to his father. "Bulby cartoons, Papa!"

"I see."

The clink of a porcelain plate hitting the dining room table echoes throughout the TV room.

"Breakfast's ready." Cathy calls

Damien rushes to the dining room as Hank turns the television off. He walks to the table, seeing his son shake at his seat as Cathy puts eggs and bacon on his plate. The moment she finishes filling his plate, Damien starts wolfing down his food.

"Damien, slow down!" Hank calls as he forces his son to put his plate down.

"I don't want to miss my show."

"The bulby cartoons?"

"Yeah!"

Hank gets his plate of breakfast. "What do you like so much about them?"

"They're so funny. Bulby always gets broken every episode."

"I see. You know what, you can eat your breakfast in the TV room. Be sure to bring your dishes back when you're done," Hank says as he turns to Cathy.

"Yes, Papa!" Damien yells ecstatically as he seizes his plate and runs back to the television.

Cathy smiles at Hank. "He's still cute enough to get you to help him."

He returns the gesture. "That may be. But there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Is this about Henry?" Cathy asks as she starts eating her bacon.

Hank's smile fades as he rests his head on his hand. "He somehow knew about Julia."

Cathy stops eating and stares into Hank's eyes. "You mean…"

"I was wondering if you told anybody what I had told you."

"No, I haven't."

"I need you to be honest with me."

"Hank."

Hank puts his bacon into the eggs. "Alright. Just needed to be sure."

"Any clues as to what he might be?"

"For all I know, he could just be a clone that has my memories." Hank says as he puts a fork full of eggs and bacon in his mouth.

"I see."

 **After that Delicious Breakfast**

Hank puts his plate and fork in the sink before walking out of the kitchen and to the front door. "That was one of your best, Cathy."

Cathy embraces her husband and gives him a quick peck on the lips. "I'm glad you liked it that much."

Getting his coat on, Hank returns the kiss and opens the door. He steps on the mat, breathing in the diesel air that infests the neighborhood. He walks to his driveway, noticing that his car is not there.

"Honey!"

Cathy gets outside, walking to the driveway. "Yes?"

"Do you know what happened to my car?"

"I thought you parked it-" She stops short as she notices the car is missing as well.

Hank's cellphone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hank? It's Sanford, Henry's escaped."

Hank glances to his driveway once again. "Henry."

 _Meanwhile…_

Henry slouches on the driver seat of Hank's grey and dusty 1988 Pontiac Firebird while taking a big swig of a Jack Daniels. Melted gold fills his throat and burns his chest as the liquid enters his system. He looks out his window to see nothing but barren desert and an empty highway right next to where he is parked. Clenching the steering wheel with his bandaged left hand, he feels the bandages crease and crinkle in his tight grip.

Henry starts the car after turning the key and puts the gear into drive, speeding off. "Wonder what's on the station."

Turning on the radio, he hears a drum outro that goes off for half a minute, followed by a several second silence.

 _"_ _This is W-O-M-B. The Womb. And if you, my pets, learn to listen, I'll let you crawl back in. Here's something you should drop to your knees for and worship. But you are too stupid to realize yourselves."_

Henry rolls his eyes.

" _A song for the deaf, that is for you._ "

The DJ finally shuts up as a creepy, rhythmic bass riff sounds off. This is followed by a guitar screech, resembling a woman screaming in abject terror. The bass continues for sixteen seconds and then the guitars and drums invade Henry's ears.

 _I like this._

Henry turns the volume to max. Behind him, he hears the wooden barrier for the road break and sees a pick up truck with three guitarists standing on the bed, playing their instruments. The truck drives around Henry and flies down the highway. Henry drives even faster down the road.

"Jackasses."

* * *

Hank stands in his front yard as he watches a red 1992 Dodge Monaco park in his driveway. Half a minute later, Deimos exits the car and walks to Hank.

"I heard Henry escaped again."

"What do you mean _again_?"

Hank's harsh tone causes Deimos to flinch. "Yesterday, he escaped his cell and helped us investigate that mother prostituting her daughter."

"And he's escaped again."

"Yeah. I guess the extra guards didn't make much difference."

Hank sighs as both men see a police car drive up to the house. Out comes Sanford with half a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Alright Hank. We're going to need you to help us get Henry this time."

Hank looks at the spot where he last saw his car. "You can't take care of this situation yourself?"

"Hank. He has your abilities and talents. I can only hope you two think somewhat alike so we can have a better idea as to where we could find him."

Deimos leans on the fence. "Any leads, Dick Tracy?"

"All I can really come up with is the Anti-AAHW headquarters."

"Then let's start there." Hank gets to Deimos' car. "Be sure to keep your eyes peeled."

Sanford gets back into his police car, turns on the siren and drives down the street.

* * *

Crows and ravens fly past the grey Firebird as Henry continues his joyride in the desert. To his left, he sees a black truck parked beside the freeway next to the highway he is driving in. On the hood is some scantily clad woman and a man wearing a slick leather jacket on top of her.

He sighs in disgust. "Kids."

The song that was playing earlier ends off with a continuous riff and the radio silence begins once again.

"Let's see what else is on."

His finger presses the seek button on the radio and hears a steady distinction of static and Tejano music, until…

 _"_ _-Music radio. Where we give you best metal and rock the world has yet to hear. Right now, we've got a fan favorite for our station. I'll give you a hint, it's by Megadeth. Enjoy some thrash as you drive down the empty highways."_

The radio starts off with some sort of opera for the first five seconds, then turns into a low tuned, electric guitar riff accompanied by bass and the drums.

Henry rolls down the windows, feeling the warm air fill the car and push against his disfigured face. "As long as there's good music."

* * *

Inside Deimos' Monaco, Hank rests his head on the window. "I'm supposed to be at my gun shop."

"I'm aware of that, Hank."

"I also expected you two to have some credibility in handling an Antithesis veteran."

"Yeah, and you also doubted we could win against Dan."

"We almost didn't, Deimos."

"But we still won."

Hank looks out the window he is resting on. "Why did Henry have to come here?"

"I don't know Hank."

"We better hope he's at the headquarters." A floating bandaged man wearing a suit comes into Hank's view. "What was that?"

Deimos glances to where Hank is staring. "What was what?"

Hank looks back at the spot and sees the bandaged man is no longer there. "Nothing."

Deimos shifts the gear in his car and they ride down the road even faster. "Well, at least you're not as stressed as Sanford is right now."

"What makes you say I'm not?"

"Oh, just a hint."

Hank rolls his eyes and looks to the road seeing Sanford's police car with the siren on, speeding down the highway.

* * *

Henry shifts the gear in Hank's Firebird and sees the speedometer point from 80 to 105. The cacti and litter in the desert surrounding the highway are nothing more than blurs that pass him by. All except the site of a bandaged man wearing a suit, hovering as he moves across the road in front of Henry. The masked mercenary shakes his head and sees the bandaged man is not there anymore.

 _Hallucinating again._

Speeding down the road, Henry sees a road sign in the distance. Its size allows him to be able to read what is written on it. The city name is crossed out and replaced with "Shit". The exits are covered in spray paint and the words "Scum," "Hell," and "Wank" cover the spots.

"Looks like the place."

Moving the gear, the speedometer reads seventy-four and Henry takes the "Wank" exit. He is met by a dilapidated entrance, topped off with a blank billboard with the phrase: "The end is really fucking nigh," painted on it.

Henry nods as he turns the radio off. "Yup."

Reaching for the Jack Daniels once again, he tilts his head back as the last of the contents make their burning entrance into his throat. He throws the bottle out of the open window and begins speeding once again. While the run-down buildings and pedestrians blur in his vision as he drives, the road starts to melt and swivel in a familiar way. Unable to make a straight line, Henry begins swerving all over the road.

A scream catches his attention, causing him to turn away from where he is driving, not knowing that there is a roadblock in front of him. The car collides with the barrier, metal bending and scraping against the concrete. In spite being intoxicated, he puts his hands on the windshield and keep his head from hitting it. Steam and smoke fill his nostrils as he lies in his seat. Something running down his forehead makes him rub it with his hand and sees his fingers drenched in blood.

Looking at the steering wheel, he sees that it has a head shaped dent at the top. He grabs the door handle and attempts to open it, only to see it is stuck. Turning to the other door, he notices that one is jammed too. Clenching his fists, he elbows his cracked window, shattering it and causing some glass shards to get into his left eye.

He wrestles with the sharp fragments and flinches at the sharp pain the moment his fingers touch the cut area. "Damn it."

Ignoring the pain, Henry clambers out of the window and falls out of the car. His bloodied scalp scrapes along the pavement, causing the wound to grow. Feeling a mixture of sharp and dull pains, he raises his arms, seeing purple and grey spots as well as cuts and scars all around. Despite his aggregation of wounds, he grabs the crooked metal of what was once Hank's Firebird and pulls himself to his feet.

The sun invades Henry's vision as he staggers to the sidewalk and sits next to some little girl. The bright light blinding him, Henry catches the attention of the street urchin, who reaches into his jacket pocket. Unbeknownst to her, Henry could feel her hand invading his clothes and seizes her by the wrist. The little girl can only wince and give a silent scream as the grip only tightens. When she looks back to the masked man's eyes, she sees his irises give off a slight glow and a look of pure malice.

With Henry's grip only tightening even further, both he and the girl can feel her bones begin to get crushed. Tears start falling from the youth as she tries and tries to escape her victim's grasp.

"Please, I'm sorry." She utters as she struggles one last time to pull away.

Henry lets go, making her look into his eyes once again, to see them glowing even more. Holding her injured arm, she jumps and runs away.

* * *

Sanford shifts the gear in his car, making the speedometer read from 70 to 90. He sets the siren to be even louder as he sees cars in front him. The vehicles ahead of him pull over and stay put as his and Deimos' car pass them by.

 _Why does Henry need to make everything so stressful? I swear, he just can't have anything work out for anyone else. Stay in his goddamn cell for a night? Of course he can't. Help out with investigations? Only for a few hours, then the rest of us could get fucked for all we know._

Metal gates come to his vision. Looking up, he sees the entrance to the Anti-AAHW headquarters.

 _And now, you have to disappear for whatever the fuck reason, and now we have to find you. I can't wait to hit you with the baton._

* * *

Stumbling on his footsteps, Henry totters down the sidewalk, passing by graffiti that has an eye with the words, "Don't dare look away," surrounding it. Right next to it is the phrase, "ALL IS LOST." He runs his hand against the concrete wall and dry paint until he spots a saloon only 30 feet away. Looking above the door, the sign says, "Prehab" and has the phrase, "Get Fucked" underneath it.

Inside the bar, at least twelve patrons sit at the barstools and slowly take their drinks. Gunfire from the arcade machines at the edge of the room fill the atmosphere, as well as drunken rambling. The bartender, wearing a shirt that says, "I'm alright," grabs a bottle of "Dried Devil" and pours it into a patron's glass.

The chatting and rambling go on until the saloon doors are kicked open. A man with messy black hair wearing a dark overcoat and cargo pants is in the sights of everyone inside. Seeing his scarred face and bandaged hands and body, patrons nearest to the door stay out of his way as he gets to the closest barstool.

The bartender walks up to him. "What'll you be havin'?"

With a trembling hand, the newcomer points to the bottle of scotch. The bartender gets a shot glass for him and begins pouring. The patron closest to this man in the overcoat turns to him.

"Fancy seeing you here."

He turns to the patron, seeing him wear an ATP uniform, holding a knife in his far hand.

"I thought you left this place and would never come back," the patron says as he puts his knife hand on the table. "Glad I was wrong."

As the patron puts his knife away, the outsider downs his shot of scotch and shatters the glass over his temple. The patron screams as the fragments and yellow blood get into his eye. He falls onto the ground.

The other patrons, aside from one, get out of their seats and surround this mad man. Two patrons walk to him cautiously, one wearing a brown leather jacket and the other an AAHW t-shirt. The patron wearing the shirt gets in front of the masked man and throws a punch. The outsider catches it and holds him in a wrist lock behind the back.

The patron wearing the jacket takes the first patron's knife and holds it steady to stab the attacker's side. As he makes a stabbing motion, the man in the overcoat turns so the patron wearing the t-shirt gets stabbed. Angered, the jacket patron pulls the knife out and makes a slashing motion, only to get caught in a typical wrist lock, forcing him to drop the knife.

 _CH-CHK_

Both turn to the bartender, who has a KS-23 shotgun pointed right at the newcomer. He is about to pull the trigger until the masked man hip tosses the leather jacket patron toward him. The shotgun falls to the ground as the patron lands on him. While stunned, the bartender gets back up, only to get struck by the barstool the man in the overcoat was sitting on.

A patron wearing torn jeans and a filthy shirt sizes up this man, only to get clocked on the jaw. The back of his head feels a hand on it and his face comes into brutal contact with the bar table. Again and again and again does his head get bashed, until a patron wearing a suit and red sunglasses chokes the bandaged man in the overcoat from behind. He keeps the hold on tight as the patron in filthy clothes falls on the ground, blood oozing from his scalp and mouth.

The masked, bandaged man forces his head back, hitting the suit wearing patron in the nose. He stomps on the poor man's foot, making the hold loosen just a little bit. Taking advantage, the outsider flips the patron onto the one bleeding on the ground. He finishes the man off by stomping on his face, specifically where his sunglasses are, making the glass get into his eyes as well.

"You piece of shit."

The masked man turns to the ex-ATP, who slowly gets back up, yellow blood leaking from his temple and left eye. Behind the bandaged man is the patron wearing the brown leather jacket, pointing the bartender's shotgun at the outsider.

He pulls the trigger, making the man wearing the overcoat move to the side, causing the shotgun blast to hit the former ATP. Yellow gore splashes on the outsider and the patron holding the shotgun.

While the patron pumps the shotgun, the masked man jumps over the bar table and lands on him. He gets punched in the cheek, the jugular, both temples, and the nose. Another patron wearing an ATP uniform gets behind the bandaged man and picks up the shotgun. The outsider gets the back of his head hit by the butt of the KS-23 and winds up getting stunned. Four other patrons vault over the table and take the bandaged man in the overcoat down.

They start kicking and stomping him while he is down, paying no heed to shouts and yelps. Behind the chaos, the patron not wanting to fight sneaks behind, grabbing a bottle of "Desert Fever" and gets back to his seat.

* * *

"I'd like to see the prisoners."

The guard maintains his dead serious look as he unlocks the door for Sanford, Hank, and Deimos. The trio walk in the room. Sounds of banter, insults, and raving make a nostalgic welcome to them as they observe each prisoner.

"Any luck asking the Higher Powers?"

"Nope. They just had to be busy today." Hank answers as an inmate carrying a broken mirror tries to reach for him.

Deimos takes a cigarette out of his pocket. "Looks like this is our last place to check."

Sanford nods. "Where else do you think Henry would be?"

"Come on Hank," Deimos starts. "Don't you think you might be able to share at least a couple of thoughts?"

"I _would_ if we were the same person."

"I might know a thing or two about this Henry."

The trio turn to the direction where they heard the voice. Dan, in his cell, greets them.

Sanford approaches him. "What would you know."

"A few things. You forget what I really am capable of. After all, it almost cost Hank his free will."

"Meaning…"

"Meaning that I know of him… if you bring him to me, I might let a few secrets slip."

Hank gets closer to the cell. "What do you know about him?"

Dan gives Hank a _cheshyre_ grin. "I know he has your look, extra scars, a good chunk of his cheek is missing, he's had a lesson in the lariat. I also know his last name is Wimbleski. Isn't that right Hank?"

"How did you know?"

"You're gonna have to cough up that extra five grand for that." Dan says as he gets to his sink.

Deimos rests his hands on both Hank's and Sanford's shoulders. "Come on, he's not here."

"Where the hell could he be, then?" Sanford asks as they begin walking to the exit.

Hank waves at the guard who unlocks the door. "When we find him, I'll be sure we each get turns hitting him on our way back."

* * *

The only man left standing, being the patron that did not bother to fight, looks at the bandaged stranger sitting on the bar table. His medical mask is torn off, revealing more scars on him and even a bullet hole on his left cheek. The contents of a "Raven's Feather" leaks out of that said bullet hole as he guzzles the alcohol down.

Heavy footsteps cause the former masked man to look around the bar, not seeing anything due to both his eyes being swollen shut. A large man, being at least seven and a half feet tall, wearing G:013M scraps storms into the bar.

The patron sitting points to the man in the overcoat resting at the counter. Lurid strides cause the wounded man to look at the bouncer's general direction and throw his empty bottle at him. The glass bounces off the ex-AAHW operative's abdomen, landing on the ground.

 _CLANK!_

Reaching over, the bouncer picks the bottle back up, seeing it's empty. He looks at the only patron unharmed and points at the crazy man on the table. The patron nods as he continues drinking. The former G:013M puts the bottle on one of the few tables still intact and walks to the scarred man in the overcoat. He dodges a sloppy punch from the outsider and catches his fist, pulling him off the table.

The drunkard's legs wobble, back slouches, head unable to stay in one spot. As he gets his hands up to fight, he loses his balance and falls backward, onto the barstools. When the bouncer attempts to help him back up, he hits the large man with a right hand to the jaw, not exactly fazing him.

The G:013M quickly grabs the crazy man by the throat and tosses him in the air. Both he and the patron watch as the scarred man falls back down, his lower back landing on one of the overturned stools. Hearing groans of pain, the bouncer grabs the man by his feet and pulls him closer. A punch to his nose busts it open like a chestnut. The stranger spits blood on his attacker in response… only to get punched once again. This time, he suffered a blow to the sternum and yet again in diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him.

While he was gasping for air, the large man strikes his temples and right eye with steady punches until he could not muster enough strength to raise his hand in defense. The last patron watches as the G:013M grabs the outsider by his shoulders, carries him to the entrance and throws him out of the building.

* * *

Henry lands on the pavement in front of the bar, hearing a car engine nearby. Quickly, he puts his head down as the vehicle rides over him, running over his right humerus. Screams of agony can be heard from across the block.

" **DAMN IT! FUCK! JESUS!** "

With his left hand, Henry slowly reaches to his upper right arm. The bone was now in two as he unsteadily gets back up. He falls over at his first attempt; his left hand feels glass. Grabbing one of the shards, he puts the sharp edge over his left eyelid. The fragment cuts through the swollen eyelid, causing him to wince in pain as blood trickles down his face.

Letting the blood drip out a little more, Henry rubs the cut a little until he can somewhat see in front of him. Dilapidated buildings invade his vision, with decadent pedestrians and prostitutes on their corners. Blood comes out of his mouth as he bends over, retching. A minute later, blood and bile escape Henry's mouth, polluting the already grimy road he is stuck on. He tires as he tries to get back up; this time succeeding, he hobbles down the road.

"Looks like you could use some R&R."

Henry turns to the masculine voice to see a man with enlarged breasts wearing women's underwear looking at him. Shaking his head, he continues shambling down the road.

"Your loss."

With his stilted vision, Henry can see a biker gang consisting of only females, all wearing a leather jacket with the title "QotSA" written on the back.

"Look what we've got here."

The Scarlet Squad look to Henry, seeing his wounds and scars, his overcoat, his bandages.

"You don't think that's…"

The brunette pulls out her sawn-off shotgun, interrupting the redhead. "Looks more like a zombie than who you're thinking of."

The blonde gets her machete. "Come on ugly."

Henry lets go of his upper arm, letting it dangle as he walks to the brunette with the shotgun. He slowly approaches her to the point the edge of what is left of the barrel touches his chest. The girl hesitates, allowing him to swipe the gun from her with his left hand.

"Looks like you're getting soft there, princess!" The redhead calls out.

The brunette reaches for her gun. "Give it back, asshole."

Henry backs away, opening the barrel and emptying the shells. The blonde laughs as he shoves the shotgun at her chest. The brunette puts the gun away.

"That was really him."

The redhead puts her hands on her hips. "Apparently."

"And he didn't kill us."

Moving past the biker gang, Henry continues to limp down the dirt road that leads to the highway as the sun scorches his body, singing a tune.

"Living in the Era Vulgaris, just drool in the dark as you stare into the light."


	4. Investigations

**Chapter 4: Investigation**

Through the silent night and dark alley, a patter of footsteps invade the surrounding reticence, forcing vermin to scatter and hide. Once all were out of sight, the figure holding a sizeable paint brush and bucket walks to the end of the outdoor hallway and is met by a brick and mortar wall. He sets the tools down and leans against the wall.

Some time later, a person wearing a suit and tie comes down the alleyway and sees the man next to the white paint bucket and broken street lamp. He looks at the graffiti on the floor and other walls as he approaches the painter.

"Why did you need to meet me here?"

The artist takes his brush and dips it into the paint. He begins making an outline of a lion with fluid strokes. "I felt that I needed to give you a visual as to what I'm talking about."

"You've yet to give me a reason as to why I should join this organization you work in."

"Fair enough…" The artist pauses as he illustrates smaller details into the lion.

"Well?"

"There's been new management where you used to work-"

"That group has been dead and buried for the past seven years."

The artist's strokes with the paintbrush start becoming graceless. "That may be, but now a new group has risen from the ashes."

"And you're making their insignia to help convince me?"

"Not just you, but any others who wish to serve our cause."

"Count me out then."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I have no reason to join you. I've come to terms with what has happened and seen that it is best to leave what was in the past."

As the man in suit and tie is about to leave, the artist pulls out a small knife from his sleeve.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

With the distinct clicking sound from the switchblade, the man in the suit quickly turns around and hits the knife bearer on the wrist. The blow stuns him shortly, enough time for the sharp dressed man to clock his jaw.

Unbeknownst to him however, the artist utilizes the momentum from the strike to turn his body and roundhouse kicks his attacker's upper sternum. The blow stumbles the fine dressed man, forcing him to grip the wall in order to stay standing. The artist attempts a sweep, but is caught as the business man pushes him upon his painting supplies, forcing him to trip and get white paint all over both their clothes.

"I hope you understand that you're not fighting some other Grunt from the AAHW."

The painter slowly gets back up, knife still in hand. "I've been aware of it."

With a great leap, the artist aims his knife for his enemy's heart. Instead, the knife punctures the sharp dressed man's left forearm, dripping yellow blood. Swiftly pulling the blade out, the painter retracts his weapon and delivers a debilitating knee to his adversary's diaphragm, forcing him to bend over with the wind knocked out of him. The artist seizes the opportunity by putting the sharp edge to the former ATP's throat and promptly slices through.

Yellow blood squirts on the walls, the floor, and onto the artist himself. Once the Engineer is down, the painter rubs the blood off his face and neck as he looks back to his illustration, still incomplete. He walks to his tools and takes out a thin paint brush. Then, returning to his Engineer's, he dips the brush into the fallen assailant's slit throat.

He continues his work with the painting.

* * *

Walking past the water cooler, a detective approaches the door to the chief's room. He reaches for the doorknob but hesitates. The memory of when his boss had a meltdown and had almost half of the force arrested makes him gulp. Yet mustering up newfound courage, he knocks on the door and immediately enters.

Inside, he sees the chief sitting at his desk, emptying a bottle of scotch into a shot glass. Taking a step closer, the man at the desk turns to him.

"What is it?"

"There's been another string of murders tonight."

"And we've been stretched too thin right now."

"Yeah." The detective hands the folder to him while looking at the name carrier on the desk:

 _Head Chief of Police_

 _Sanford Evanson_

Sanford opens the folder and reads the latest victim. "Yet another AAHW."

"What do you think this could be about?"

Sanford downs his scotch. "So far, this looks like some kind of vengeance scheme."

"Do you think this might be another gang war?"

"Sam, if this was a gang war, we'd have figured out who's fighting them."

Sam looks down. "Right, sir."

"Look, right now, since our other investigators are busy and your partner's sick today. I'm gonna have to come with you."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

The police car slows as an alleyway comes into view. The once dark outdoor hall now lights up thanks to the lone moon in the sky and the car headlights and siren. Sam and Sanford glance at the graffiti sprawled all over the walls and floor as they stop the car.

Sanford gets out first and immediately feels the cold, dry air surrounding him as he walks to the dead body lying beside the end of the alley. Sam follows suit, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve as the stench of the corpse grows stronger with every step. With such a noxious redolence forcing him to turn away, he sees the image of a white lion holding an ATP's mask.

Sanford has the body lie on its back. The position reveals a wound on his throat, alongside dried yellow blood all over its suit and the ground.

Sam turns to see the body. "You think it might be a Soldat?"

"Doubt it," Sanford answers as he inspects the carcass's face. "Soldat's were smarter than the other guys."

"Anything to see?"

"Not much. Doesn't seem to have any bruises in his head." Sanford turns back to his temporary partner. "Be sure to use your training to check the rest of the scene. Don't want to make any assumptions before all evidence is present."

The rookie looks back at the painting. "What about this?"

"What about what?" Sanford asks as he leaves the lifeless husk.

Sam points at the white lion. "This."

The white lion holding an engineer's mask comes to Sanford's view as well as the phrase below it:

 _Ab Ipso Ferro_

Sanford runs his finger against the white paint. The residue on the brick and mortar wall smudges as the tip of his forefinger has a faint white hue. Both he and Sam take a closer look on the yellow for the ATP mask painted.

Sam rubs the yellow on the wall, getting some on his hand. "What kind of paint has that pattern?"

"None that I know of."

Sam takes a whiff of it. "Smells nothing like paint."

Sanford mimics his inferior's actions. "That's synthetic blood."

"Really?"

"I'd recognize it anywhere. Whoever killed this man used his blood as paint."

"You think it's part of a message?"

Sanford winces. "What else would it be? Call the station if there's been any other sighting of a painted white lion near the crime scene."

Sam flinches as he takes a few steps back. He grabs his radio and proceeds to move further away from his boss.

"Y-yes sir."

While the rookie talks through his radio, Sanford keeps his attention squared directly at the painted image before him. Sifting through any possible clue it might give him; any other message to give.

Sam returns to the crime scene as he puts his radio away. "There's been at least four other sightings of a painted white lion next to the dead bodies. Anything else we need to do?"

"Call the cleanup team and look for any clues we might have missed," Sanford orders as he begins to exit the alley.

Sam scrambles for his radio once again. "Where are you going?"

"Have a hunch to follow."

* * *

 **Back at the Station**

* * *

Passing off-white walls and a half empty water cooler, Sanford storms into the back lab of the police station. Some of the seven people are seated at their computers, while others stationed at printers and assorted fax machines on mahogany tables. The only visible light comes from the monitors themselves.

 _We really need to change some of the lights._

Everyone jumps as their boss walks by them with a stern scowl.

"One of you, find me a place where someone bought a shit ton of white paint. Now!"

With the command thrown at them, all the desk workers begin their search. A few minutes pass and one of them yelps.

"I've found something!"

Sanford walks to the voice and sees a small woman at her computer looking up at him with cautious optimism. He leans towards the computer, blocking any glare from the ceiling lights.

"What'd you find?"

"Turns out there's a place called 'Al's Paint Shop' that's had several exorbitant orders of white

paint."

"Can you print me the address?"

The desk officer presses a few keys and clicks her mouse. "Of course."

The printer sounds off. Within a few moments, a paper with the address, opening and closing times of this "Al's Paint Shop" comes out.

Sanford takes the paper. "Thank you, Deputy Ramirez."

The Deputy smiles as she notices him leave. "Any time, chief. Are you going to search for the owner?"

He turns back to her. "Not tonight. It'd be best I question him when shop opens up in the early morning."

"Whatever you say, sir."

* * *

 **The Next Morning**

* * *

Sanford arrives to the proverbial "Al's Paint Shop" in his white Ford Escort. The dawn sun reflects off the glass of the shop and into his eyes. He parks his car in the shared parking lot for the paint shop, as well as the bookstore next door. Turning off the engine, Sanford gets out of the car, folder in hand. He feels the warm air enveloping him.

 _CLUNK!_

Turning to the sound, Sanford spots a young man wearing a leather jacket. The young man fumbles with his tools, all the while chasing a rolling paint bucket, until it stops at Sanford's heel. The artist hastily grabs it and walks to his car, not at all noticing the person in front of him.

Sanford looks back at the address. "Looks like the place."

Bells by the door sound off as Sanford enters the shop. The person at the desk waves at him.

"Hello there! Any specific paint you have in mind for me to get?"

"Eh, sort of."

The register tilts his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Sanford presents his badge to the register. "I'd like to talk to the person in charge of the place."

"You're looking at him," the desk man says as he reaches his hand out to shake. "Albert."

Sanford shakes his hand. "Evanson."

"What seems to be the problem, officer?"

"Chief," Sanford corrects. He takes out a few pictures of crime scenes, all with the white lion painting. "There's been a few murders with this symbol as a sort of calling card."

The store owner takes a close look at one of the paintings.

"I was wondering if you have any idea what it might be about," Sanford continued.

"Not a clue. What does it have to do with my shop?"

"It turns out, you've had a customer come here that's ordered a gratuitous amount of white paint from you. I would like to know who it is."

"Well…" Albert pauses. "It's not going to be such an easy task."

"That kind of thing happens all the time?"

"Not exactly. The thing is that I have four people that made an order like what you're describing."

"Can you give their names and addresses?"

"Of course." Albert turns to his office. "Give me a minute."

As Albert gets to the back of the shop, Sanford turns to the assortment of paint that imbues the store. In spite of the strong smell, shelves and containers are empty.

 _That Al better hurry up with those names. Paint smell's making me dizzy._

After another nauseating five minutes, Albert comes back with a piece of paper in his hands.

"Here you go, chief."

Sanford takes the paper. "Thank you. I noticed that you happen to have a shortage right now-"

Albert waves him off. "Oh no, I've just been able to sell so much paint thanks to all the rebuilding going on."

"Is that so?"

Albert nods. "Yep. Majority of the the architecture has its paint and texture come from this store."

"How've you been able to get that much paint?"

"My kids and I make our own. Helps that I can get it for cheap from southern Texas."

Sanford begins to turn to the exit. "Anyways, take care."

"Oh, forgot something," Albert says as he reaches to the police chief.

Sanford turns back to him. "What?"

Albert points to the bottom of the list. "This one was just here a few minutes ago. He's probably halfway home by now."

Sanford folds the paper and turns to the door. "Thank you. Good day."

He grips the steel door handle and hears the bells sound off as he takes his exit.

* * *

After the oak door behind him shuts, Sanford looks to his watch.

 _Interesting, didn't take that long after all._ _Ab Ipso Ferro, From the Same Cloth. What does it mean?_

Sanford opens his car door but hesitates as he hears a honk nearby. Turning to the sound, he sees Deimos in his Dodge Monaco, waving at him. The car slowly drifts to Sanford and the window rolls down.

"What brings you to this place?" Deimos asks.

"I'd ask you the same thing."

Deimos pulls out a children's book. "I came here to get something for my kid. What about you?"

Sanford leans in the open window. "I'm here for my investigation."

Deimos' face lights up. "You think I could help you out?"

"Don't you have a company to take care of?"

"Not today."

"Alright, but it'll be best if we use one car."

"Got it."

Sanford gets into his car and follows Deimos out of the driveway and into the road. Spray-painted road signs invade his vision. Uneven concrete make the roads a bumpy ride as they navigate out of this part of town.

 _Why is it that road reconstruction only happens to the roads that need it least?_

As they finally get to Deimos' house, the garage door is already open. The other car is nowhere to be seen.

 _It would be a bit funny if Henry was right about Mary._

Deimos pulls into his garage as Sanford parks beside the lawn. Through Sanford's side mirror, he sees Deimos rush out of his car and get straight into the police cruiser.

"I thought you were going to give that book to your son."

"I will, eventually."

Sanford drives the car into a U-turn. "You didn't go to that specific store for that book, didn't you?"

Deimos gives a big grin, trying to stifle a laugh. "Well…"

"How'd you find me?"

"One of your officers told me where you went."

"This was supposed to be a private investigation!"

Deimos nudges Sanford's shoulder. "So? Isn't it bad to keep secrets from your best pal?"

"Forget it. Hopefully you can help with some of these subjects."

Sanford hands Deimos the list of names and addresses.

"Don't know any of these guys," Deimos says as he puts the paper in a cup holder.

"I can see this 'help' is working out perfectly."

"You've been getting pretty sarcastic since Henry appeared."

"That may be, but it leaves me with a few questions."

"Like what?"

Sanford hands Deimos the picture of the white lion painting. "You have any familiarity to the phrase, Ab Ipso Ferro?"

"I know what it means, that's about it."

"Well, considering that painting was made while other AAHW murders were happening in the same night..."

"You're thinking that there's more than a few people involved in it?"

"Exactly. And with the case of Henry, where the Hell could that madman be if he's not already dead?"

* * *

"Thank you for your time," Sanford says as he gets up from his seat.

"You sure you don't want to keep some of my paintings?"

"If I wanted to have a white canvas on my wall, all I would need is a sheet of paper."

The artist grabs a black canvas, "Come on. What about a black sheep at night?"

Sanford facepalms, "Look, I'm not part of the demographic that enjoys your 'art.' Plain and simple."

The artist looks down. "Fine."

Sanford walks to the dark oak door and turns the cold brass knob. He pulls the door open and feels the wind whip his face. As he gets out of the apartment, the door closes behind him and the bolt can be heard locking the door.

With that out of the way, Sanford gets out of the building. He sees the uneven cement making the walkways and the small park in the center of the complex, surrounded by dead grass and an ash picnic table. Moving past all of that, he gets into the police car and sees Deimos slouching on the passenger seat, playing some game on his phone.

"He wasn't the guy?" Deimos asks as he turns off his device and puts it in his pocket.

"What do you think?"

Deimos shrugs.

Sanford starts the car. "I'm going to repeat myself because I'm genuinely concerned about your wife and kid. Shouldn't you be at your company?"

Deimos looks out the window, "Eh. It's already failing anyways. We're about to be absorbed by Apple soon, so it won't matter."

Sanford starts driving out of the parking lot and into the road. "You seem pretty calm about it."

Deimos rolls down the window. "Let's just say I have a plan. If it fails, I'm fucked. But if it succeeds… the world's gonna be a very different place."

Deimos lights a cigarette as Sanford slows the car down to a halt.

"What?" Deimos asks as he takes a puff.

"If what you're doing is going to cause problems for me, don't expect me to bail you out when things go to shit."

Deimos gives no response as he blows smoke out of the car as Sanford starts driving again.

"Deimos."

"Don't worry, Sanford. I'll have it under control."

"And what exactly are you going to be using to _change_ the world?"

"I'm not at full liberty to say right now. We're trying to figure that out."

Sanford grumbles as he keeps his sight on the road. As they ride continues, they come across a run down house. The roof is warped and has water dripping from the sides. The yellow pine is covered in mildew and moss.

Deimos throws his cigarette out the window. "This is the last house. What makes you think you'll find your guy?"

"I don't know if I'll find him here," Sanford says as he gets out of the car.

Deimos turns back to tapping at his phone. Sanford continues his path along the sidewalk, hearing a German shepherd barking from across the street. Looking back at the house, he can see the wood making the southwest corner is warped to the point of near collapse. The yellow pine looks horribly scratched and marred, much more so than the rest of the small house.

As Sanford makes it to the front door, he notices that the hinges are barely holding it. Knocking, he hears muffled shuffling from inside. He waits for half a minute, then grabs the handle. As he pushes down the latch, he rips it from the tarnished door.

Sanford pulls out his phone. Punching in a few numbers, the line on the other end picks up after the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Deimos, start the car and get into the yard."

"Alright."

Once Sanford hears his police car start, he takes his pistol out of its holster and kicks the door. The hinges give way and the door falls flat on the floor.

As Deimos drives into the backyard, Sanford slowly enters the house until he can hear the wind from another room. He rushes to the bedroom, seeing a bed frame missing its mattress. All over the walls are white lion symbols and the same latin phrase from earlier:

 _Ab Ipso Ferro_

As he turns to the doorframe, he sees the letters "AAHW" inscribed on top of the frame.

"SANFORD! FOUND THE GUY!"

He turns to the open window, where the wind was gusting into the room and climbs through. Once Sanford is outside, he sees a familiar face in the same leather jacket from the paint shop. Sanford points his .45 at the artist.

"How many people work with you?"

The artist raises his hands over his head. "Too many to count."

"Were you part of the AAHW?"

"I wish. Getting rid of Hank and you for ruining the system we had. Killing good men for your own, self-righteous Higher Powers."

"What significance does the lion have?"

The artist gives a grin ear-to-ear, flaring his browned teeth before running out of the yard. Sanford fires a shot beside the fleeing suspect, not phasing him in the slightest. Deimos pulls up right beside him, opening the passenger-side door.

"Hop on!"

Sanford jumps into the police car and hears the engine go off as Deimos speeds through the yard. They see the leather-clad suspect hop a wire mesh fence. Deimos drives right through it.

"San, how do you turn on the siren?"

Sanford presses a button on the dashboard and the lights turn on, alongside an ear-splitting siren. As they chase the suspect, he falls over on the sidewalk and starts rolling frantically. Deimos stops the car as Sanford exits and gets to the youth.

"Stay the fuck down, or I swear to God, I'll-!"

He never finishes that sentence as black flames engulf the artist. The familiar screams of pain and terror fills the air.

Running back to the police car, Sanford takes out a fire extinguisher from beside the passenger door. He starts spraying it on the burning victim, only to see the dark flames remain unflinched.

"What the Hell is this stuff?!"

"Uh, uhh! Shit, shit! Sanford, I think we're gonna need some holy water here!"

"Shut your fucking mouth, Deimos!"

As Sanford empties out the fire extinguisher, the suspect wails one last time before succumbing. As the life exits his body, the flames die down, leaving a charred and ghoulish corpse before the duo.

Sanford turns to his partner. "What the Hell was that?"

Deimos keeps his attention at the carcass. "I've got no clue. Think Hank might know what this is?"

"I don't know Deimos. I really don't know."

* * *

"This is what happens if you fail your mission. Understand?" A man in a grey overcoat says, pointing at the scene before them.

The one in casual attire watches the police chief and his friend. "Yes, sir."

"Do you understand why this one failed his?"

"Yes, I do."

Across the road from the police car are two people sitting at a bus stop. One wears a black shirt and red tie covered by the overcoat with black pants and formal boots. The other wears a black t shirt and cargo pants with black sneakers.

The man in the overcoat gets up. "Good, now do your job."

"What're you going to do in the meantime?"

"An ally of ours is behind bars. I wish to change that fact."


End file.
